


Vapor Trails

by thayln



Category: Stargate SG-1
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-16
Updated: 2014-03-16
Packaged: 2018-01-16 00:14:27
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,144
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1324570
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thayln/pseuds/thayln
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Somewhere between Heroes and Lost City</p>
            </blockquote>





	Vapor Trails

Daniel sat by the small fire and shivered, stiff hands wrapped around a cup of coffee, for once, more interested in its warmth than its flavor. God, it was cold. P3X979 was colder than any world he could remember, cold and empty.

They were on this planet simply because of mineral readings; not a ruin or temple in sight. In fact, there weren’t any sign that humans, or anyone else, had ever lived here. However, there were traces of naquada in the soil so they’d wrapped themselves up in their standard issue artic gear and come so Sam could take readings and gather samples.

It was still cold, even through all the layers of down or whatever they were using to insulate clothes with these days. Probably some kind of synthetic fiber, Daniel mused, taking a gulp of the now cooling coffee just so he could empty the cup and refill it from the pot sitting above the fitful little campfire. Wood was hard to come by on the wind-swept plain, and Daniel had watched, fascinated, as Tealc had braided hunks of dry grass into a semblance of something that would burn.

He supposed he could crawl into the tent with Jack and Teal’c, but that meant he would have to leave the meager warmth of the fire, and the thought of shivering his way across the few feet of hard ground between him and the tent just seemed to difficult at the moment. Besides, someone should tend the fire so it wouldn’t go out before Sam came back from her perimeter check.

She was out there now, somewhere; stomping over the same frozen ground that he had before she’d relieved him of watch. It seemed silly somehow to keep a watch on this barren rock. Surely it was too damn cold for even a Goa’uld to be slinking about, but they had learned from hard experience that to let their guard down anywhere off-world could, and probably would, lead to disaster. So no one had complained when Jack had set the watch rotation before setting off into the dark, muttering about scientists and their obsession with dirt, how he hadn’t thought any place could be colder than Antarctica, and how he used to actually enjoy winter.

Daniel, Sam and Teal’c had curled up together. It was a tight fit, the tent not being meant for more than two, but no one minded. It was warmer this way, and after so many years together much of the awkwardness with potentially intimate contact had worn away into a pragmatic, easy familiarity – so much so that when Jack crawled into the tent two hours later to wake Daniel for his watch, he found the three of them piled together like puppies.

Daniel should go back in there now, he knew – wedge himself down between Jack and Teal’c. They’d growl about the popsicle intrusion, then wrap their bodies around him. He’d get a little squished, but he would be warm, warmer certainly than huddling in whatever it was that insulated his clothes.

He wondered if it was Kevlar. Now there was an interesting word. Kevlar. Probably named somehow after its inventor, think it was Kwolek or someone. Really should look that one up. Kevlar; stops bullets, saves lives. Too bad it didn’t stop staff blasts, then Janet might have . . . No. He wasn’t going there. Although, if he could have just blocked it somehow, gotten in front of her . . . Too slow. No. It wasn’t his fault. No one had said it was his fault. Still . . . probably would have been easier if it had been him. They were probably used to him dying by now . . . staff blast not so bad . . . quick . . . not like radiation . . . or being poisoned by your own body like Anna. Anna . . . another one he couldn’t save. Anna and Abydos, Shau’re, Skaara, Sarah, Reese . . . could almost be the lyrics to a song. He snorted. Of course it would be one of those songs with an irritating melody that plays over and over in your head, haunting you forever. He could almost hear it . . . No. Not that way. That way probably led to madness and he was so not going there again, no sir. Been there already . . . saw Sarah go through it, too. Sarah still going through it. No, better to not think at all. Better to just sit and tend the fire. Fire good. He snorted again. Teal’c and his obsession with SNL, “Thinking bad, fire good.” He pictured Teal’c doing a bad imitation of Phil Hartman’s Frankenstein and laughed softly.

There was something soothing about the fire, though. It called to a place deep within him; ancient instincts, perhaps. He pictured a long line of his ancestors crouching around fires for warmth and comfort, all the way back to the days when fire was first tamed. His fire popped, threw sparks high into the air—streaks of light that stretched for the stars in the arid wind. His eyes followed the streaks, and something echoed in his head. It wasn’t a memory exactly, more like a feeling or a memory of a feeling. But it was something . . . maybe . . .

Sam found him there an hour later, shivering by the almost dead coals of the fire. His eyes were closed behind the frosted lenses of his glasses and his brow was furrowed in concentration.

“Daniel?” Her hand reached for his shoulder when he didn’t reply. “Daniel, are you ok?”

He looked toward her then, or through her, and the expression on his face made all the hair on her body stand up.

“I wandered trails of starlight, once.” He blinked a little.

Sam closed her eyes; murmured, “Daniel.” Her hand clenched tighter around the reality of bone and muscle.

He looked at her then, really looked at her, “Sam?”

“Daniel?” She struggled to squelch a flash of totally illogical fear.

“Geeze, you’re getting as bad as Jack, _Sam_.” He gave her a pointed look and then shivered suddenly, becoming painfully aware of his chilled state and the unnoticed passage of time.

“Sam?” he asked again, wide eyes flying to her face, confusion blanketing his features.

“Come on,” she shook her own head to start it thinking again. “Let’s get you warmed up.” She hauled him up by an arm and began to herd him into the tent.

“Sorry, I was just . . . thinking about something . . .” His voice was a strange detached whisper of sound that trailed off into nothing. Sam let it pass, but her eyes darkened with concern as she shoved him into the tent.

In the morning he seemed fine, and in the rush to get the testing done and their frigid bodies back to Earth she never got around to mentioning it to the others. But even years later, when the wind carried just that particular chill, she’d gaze up at the night sky and wonder.


End file.
